A Cat of A Different Coat
by AmethystSoul13
Summary: Foreign country, and a new husband. Her future awaits her.


A Cat of a Different Coat

Chapter One: _A Trade_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own ASOIAF or GOT, just the OC's. If I did, Robb would still be alive!

**Pairing: **Robb/OC

**Warning: **Violence, character death, sexual situations, gore, AU

**AN: **Takes place a year before the King's arrival!

Shiera's name is pronounced (Shee-era)

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_"And who are you, the proud lord said,  
that I must bow so low?  
Only a cat of a different coat,  
That's all the truth I know.  
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,  
A lion still has claws,  
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,  
As long and sharp as yours.  
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,  
That lord of Castamere,  
But now the rains weep o'er his hall-"_

"Must you sing such a horrid song, Shiera?" A voice called, interrupting the lovely tenor. The interrupter, a tall man with pale skin and dark curls, stared with annoyance in his light-brown eyes at the ethereal youth that was his daughter. Siero Argall was an intimidating man in his late thirty's, ruthless in his weapons dealing a slave trading. He had no patience for mistakes, or the curly-haired girl's mistakes.  
She was seated at the windowsill of her chambers, staring out at the ocean forlornly, and had begun to sing that wretched song; not knowing he had drawn near enough to hear it. The large windows in her room were open, letting in the warm, salty air from outside and the bright rays of sunshine danced on her cream colored floor. He looked outside, the sun shining in his black locks and making the color even darker. The ocean was easily in sight from their home, a beautiful and peaceful thing to look at when in thought. Beside him, his daughter, Shiera Argall immediately silenced; her full pink lips pursed in shame and her head tilted down. Her long, raven's wing eyelashes fluttered timidly as pale-brown eyes avoided his penetrating stare.  
"Forgive me, father. I did not realize-"  
"That I could hear you? Save your apologies for someone who cares, Shiera." Siero interrupted once more, his voice cold and biting. She barely flinched, her gaze still fixed on the floor as she nodded. At the sound of her father's nearing footsteps, she clenched her delicate hands on her dress ever so slightly, bracing herself for a strike.  
"If we didn't have a prior engagement, I would strike you; so stop looking so pathetic." He snapped, and Shiera forced herself to relax, reluctantly fixing her light-brown irises onto her father's imposing figure. She straightened her back like the proper lady she was, her expression smooth and inquiring.  
"Yes, father. You have need of me?" She asked softly, tucking a white-blonde curl behind her ear as he came to lean against the window's arch in front of her. For a moment, he didn't respond, instead looked her over with a critical eye. Siero moved closer, grasping her elegant chin in his hand and turning her face from side to side. The only good thing about his daughter was that she was a lovely thing, and followed orders accordingly. She had her mother's shorter stature and hour-glass frame, her loose, white-gold curls that cascaded down her waist from her mother as well; though her mother's hair was pin-straight. She had her Siero's pale-brown eyes, though his lacked any warmth and were more of an amber color; like a wolf's. Shiera's were full of kindness and warmth, and a lighter, caramel color like an owl's. Her lips were full and a bright pink, her nose button-like and giving her an innocent appearance.  
She looked more like her Targaryen ancestors than her mother, Taria did.  
In the city of Lys, their hometown, the Targaryen ancestry ran deep and it showed on the citizens. Shiera especially, though she lacked the violet colored eyes. Being the Lord of House Argall, Siero was a master of weapons-making and the owner of the most popular pleasure house in Essos. Shiera was his oldest daughter, the ripe age of sixteen. His eldest son, Soren, was eighteen and was the exact image of Siero, save for his mother's blue eyes; while Shiera inherited their father's. Siero moved closer, grasping her elegant chin in his hand and turning her face from side to side. As her father lost himself in thought, Shiera flushed with embarrassment, pale skin tinting a light pink as he continued to examine her.  
"It's good that you come from excellent breeding, he'll definitely approve." He muttered finally, and Shiera struggled not to frown in confusion, lest she aggravate him further. He released her chin, drawing back to prop himself elegantly against the window once more. Finallly, his dark eyes fixed back onto her.  
"Tomorrow you'll be packing your things. We leave in four days for Westeros. You'll be marrying Robb Stark, Eddard Stark's eldest, of Winterfell." He stated, ignoring the way Shiera's eyes widened in shock and fear. "It's a three-month trip; your mother and I will be accompanying you there, while Soren stays here in my stead. Don't bother packing all of your summer dresses; it's far too cold up North for them." He continued, running his hand down the light-blue wall of his daughter's chambers. Turning to her, he raised an eyebrow as he took in her bowed head and clenched fists.  
"Is that understood, Shiera? I'll not have you embarrass me. This is an important trade I'm going to be doing. It's for the good of our House." He snapped; dark eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Slowly, she raised her head, the perfect picture of sophistication on her heart-shaped face; no sign of her screaming in despair on the inside.  
"Yes, father, I understand." She whispered; her lips tightening as she met his gaze. He stared back sat her, stepping a bit closer and watching in satisfaction as she shifted uneasily at his approach. A cold smile spread across his handsome face, and Shiera's back stiffened slightly at the sight of it.  
"Good. What have I taught you, Shiera?" He questioned, and her lips tightened, fingers digging into her pale pink skirts. She exhaled slowly, ignoring the way her heart punded fiercely in her chest.  
"To be a good, obedient wife that can satisfy my husband in every way, My Lord." Shiera answered mechanically, feeling a streak of fear when his eyes flashed at her tone. She was worried he would make her go through her training again if he detected a hint of disobedience. The streak widened at the thought, a shiver running through her as she remembered the years of humiliation and despair.  
Satisfied, Siero turned and left her chambers, the door shutting behind him. She waited for his footsteps to finally fade; then, and only then, did she allow herself to cry. And cry she did, though she was careful to keep her sobs quiet so neither her father or the servants could hear her. She stood up from her seat, going to her large canopy bed and collapsing on it. She dug her perfect nails into the feathered pillows, burying her face into the pinks and golds and blues of her blankets. Her sheer white curtains quivered from the breeze, mimicking her shaking form as she cried. She knew it was futile to ask her father to change his mind. He would simply strike her and tell her to get over it, to act like a woman.  
_It finally has happened. He's shipping me off across the Narrow Sea to be married to a Northman I've never met. And for what? Insurance, more than likely, to ease Eddard Stark's mind that he'll own up to his side of the trade, _Shiera thought bitterly, biting her bottom lip as she wiped away her tears carefully, not wanting to make her cheeks more flushed than they already were and draw attention to herself. She sat up slowly, fixing her half-braided curls and adjusting the sheer pink dress. It flowed out loosely at her hips, showing of her creamy legs suggestively when she shifted. Standing from her bed, she smoothed out any wrinkles from her dress and sighed, staring around her chambers. She would definitely miss her room. She turned back to her bay window, pulling back the curtains and seating herself on the sill once more with a sigh. The one good thing that would come out of it; finally being away from her father.

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**_Marriage; The_****_ legal or religious ceremony that formalizes the decision of two people to live as a married couple._**

_It sounds so cold, _Shiera thought sadly, closing her dictionary with a quiet sigh. Placing the book back into her back, she wrapped her pale purple shawl tighter around her and shifted in her cushioned seat. Her violet dress made her pale skin glow in the light, rustling gently around her feet. Salty, seawater air misted her face gently, making her smile at the cool feeling. The gentle, rocking motion of the boat calmed her anxious nerves, her mother's quiet presence beside her helping as well. Taria sat on an equally cushioned seat beside her, knitting away peacefully. Both women were under a cover on the boat, shielding them from the bright rays of sunshine and in case it were to rain. Their many trunks were at the very back of the ship behind them. Shiera and her mother sat amongst piles of bed cushions and blankets that they slept on the past month. Thankfully, they had plenty of provisions to last them on their journey. A curtain was attached to their cover for privacy, whenever the women wanted to change their clothes or use the chamber pot. Shiera kept her gaze on her mother, watching the few rays of sunlight light up the white-gold locks. Sensing her daughter's gaze, Taria turned her gentle blue eyes up to twinkle over at her; full lips pulled up in a soft smile. Dressed in a comfortable blue dress that brought out her eyes, she was a stunning sight.  
She had pulled her and Shiera's hair up from their necks, so they wouldn't be hot while traveling across the sea. Shiera returned it weakly, patting her mother's knee. The boat they were on was massive, courtesy of her family's never-ending supply of money. Siero's men were well-trained, obedient, and powerful men; they didn't leer suggestively at the beautiful women, or tried to grab them inappropriately. They navigated the ship dutifully, listening to Siero's order without hesitation. Siero himself was at the front of the ship, barking orders with a stern and dominating air. He was the captain, preferring to direct the crew members instead of lying about with his wife and daughter. Looking at him, Shiera thought of Soren, of their tearful farewell when their father wasn't looking. Like Shiera, he didn't question their father's actions, but it didn't mean he liked them. Before they went to bed the night Shiera was to leave, he had embraced her tightly; holding her for the last time in a long time. Shiera immediately collapsed in her brother's arms, sobbing quietly as he squeezed her comfortingly. He had rocked her to and fro gently, like he used to when they were small, and ruffled her curls gently.  
"We will see each other again, sister. I will write to you every week." He whispered gently, and Shiera nodded rapidly in response. After that, they spent the whole night together, reminiscing about happy times as children, and what would happen to her once she was in Winterfell. Soren assured her that the Starks were very kind, having been with their father when he met Lord Eddard. Shiera sighed once more, feeling an ache in her chest as she looked down at her clenched fists. The sounds of shouting interrupted her depressing thoughts, and her head snapped up when she felt her mother's hand on her arm. As her light-brown eyes met cerulean blue, she could hear the crew members bustling about on the ship and her father's voice over them all.

"What is it, mother?" Shiera asked, but at the soft smile on her mother's face, she already knew, and her heart dropped in her stomach.  
"We have arrived. We are in Westeros." Taria whispered, and Shiera swallowed heavily, then nodded. She straightened up, giving her mother an accepting look.  
There was no going back now. Her future awaited her.


End file.
